Don't Get Lost in Heaven
by newgirlintown212
Summary: MY DEATH WILL IN THE 5TH CHAPTER! REVIEW AND/OR PM ME IF YOU WANT TO HAVE ONE OF MY STORIES. Oh, and of course, the new chapter!
1. What Is

**Lost in Heaven**

_**Chapter One**_

**What Is **

I lay on my bed, on my stomach, reading the final Harry Potter. I could never get enough of Harry Potter books. They were amazing. I was just getting to my favorite part (Voldemort dying, of course), when I was rudely interrupted my a text message on my cell phone. **From: Amanda: Why aren't you replying to any of my phone calls?**

I laughed-hadn't she realized by now that I _never _pick up _anyone_'s calls when I'm reading Harry Potter? I guess it was just coincedence that I got this message- **I'm reading HP7. BYE!**

Gosh. Her message made me lose interest in reading it. Ugh. I shut the book and tossed it into my bookshelf. I heard my mom calling my name. "Tara!"

I was _not _in the mood for going to Aunt Heather's house for dinner. Because that's what we do every Wednesday. Since mom isn't such a great cook. Dad was, though.

I trotted down the stairs, my brunette hair all messy for rolling over in so many position reading. I had brown hair like my mom, and plain brown eyes, like my dad. Except they weren't just _plain _brown. They were perfectly clear brown- or as mom liked to say, chocolatey brown. When I got to the kitchen, mom didn't have the car keys like usual, she was just sitting at the kitchen table, looking really sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She forced a small smile. "It's someone special's birthday."

"Who? Aunt Heather or something?"

"Then it would also be _my _birthday wouldn't it? No, it's not Aunt Heathers. It's Casey's."

Mom called Dad Casey because that was his name, of course. She never said dad too much. Probably because she had been used to saying Casey all her life practically. Mom didn't really go by the rules, anyways. She did things her own way. She wasn't a very by-the-book mom, if you know what I mean.

So when she mentioned dad, my mind went blank. _October 7th, Octover 7th, October 7th. _Dad's birthday. How could I forget? How? Why was I so stupid?

"Oh..." was all I managed. _Get your act together! _I thought. It probably made mom even more upset that I barely knew my dad.

Well, I actually knew quite a bit about him. I knew mom met him when she was twelve (and she thought she was 13). I knew he was fourteen. I knew he had red-brown hair and freckles and beautiful brown eyes and liked mixing random foods together...I knew he liked skateboarding and baseball...and that his best friend was Billy, who lives a couple blocks away and is still good friends with mom. I knew he and mom had lots of setbacks when they were young.

Yet, I barely knew anything about him.

Like, for starters, how he died.


	2. What Was

**Lost in Heaven**

_Chapter two_

What Was

I stared out the window. It was such a long, stormy day. I was so lonely, my 7 year old daughter, Tara, was watching and dancing along with Another Cinderella Story. I was just waiting by the phone, feeling pointless and alone. Was it strange that I felt like nothing with Casey? All of a sudden, Tara walks up to me. "When's Daddy coming home?"

"Soon." I nodded. I smiled. If there was anyone I loved just as much as Casey, it was Tara. But without them _both_, I felt empty and lonely.

Oh-so lonely.

And then Tara asked innocently, "Are you lonely without him?"

I blinked. And then I nodded. "Yes. I am. I miss him."

"He'll be home soon." Tara said. "Like Hannah Montana says, You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home."

I laughed. Tara could always make me happy.

The reason Casey was gone was because he auditioned for this movie, and for some strange reason he needed to go to New York because he was one of the finalists, and all of this complicated stuff. He said he'd explain it later. He was supposed to be back today. He was going to call me when he was boarding the plane...

And my phone rang right then.

I snatched it up. "Casey?" I breathed.

"Sammy! Hey!" he laughed, noticing my quickness.

"Are you okay? Are you coming?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm getting on the plane in 10 minutes...so I wanted to talk to you."

"Please be safe."

"I will."

"Call me when you get off."

"Okay."

"Don't forget."

"Definetly not. I'd never forget you."

I smiled.

"So how's Tara? I haven't seen my daughter in two weeks, either."

"Want to speak to her?"

"Sure!" he said.

I called to Tara: "Tara, come speak to daddy. He want to talk to you! He misses you."

"After Camp Rock, mommy!"

"I thought it was Cinderella Story."

"I changed it. PLLEEEASSSEEE let me finish?"

I spoke into the phone again. "I'm sorry. She's lost in Camp Rock."

Casey laughed, "She always is. Well, tell her I love her." for some reason, his laugh sounded like a mix of happy, sad, and lonely at the same time.

"I will." I said.

"I love you, too."

"Me, too." I sighed. "Are you boarding now?"

"Yeah. Bye! See you soon, and TELL TARA I LOVE HER!" his voice got louder for two reasons: one: he wanted to be clear and two: the noise was getting louder and louder in the airport.

"I will! Bye!" I said, and waited for him to hang up first.

And then I told Tara 'Daddy misses you' and 'Daddy loves you' for the rest of the night, because it made me think of Casey over and over again. Which made me happy. Soon Tara got sick of it. "If he misses me so much then _where is he, mommy!"_

It was 11:30 at night (usually Tara is asleep, but since Casey was coming back today I let her stay awake to see him). Tara was right- where was he? Where was he! Where was Casey- he should've been home 2 hours ago. I called Heather and Warren and the airport.

And then I called Billy.

And his voice was cracked. And sad. And sad. And sad. And sad.

"Do you know why Casey's flight is so late?"

Billy's answer: "Casey's flight wasn't late. It never came in. It crashed. Sammy. Casey's. Dead."


	3. Memory 1

**You guys probably are thinking, "Killer!" about me, but I don't really care. I write what I feel like writing. Like it or not, its here. If you hate it, then my only question to you is, Why are you reading the **_**3rd **_**chapter of this story? Hmmm... **

**Lost in Heaven**

_Chapter Three_

Memory #1

Mom just _loves _telling me memories. Memories with me, memories with dad, memories with her and her grandma who she used to live with, memories with her best friend Marissa and memories about her used-to-be archenemy Heather Acosta, my aunt. Whenever she tells me about them, her eyes get all twinkly and really, you just_ have _to listen in on them. There was never a boring story my mom has told me--I am yet to come across one.

One memory, specifically mentioning on my dad's birthday, was the one with Lele in it. Lele is my cousin. She's Heather's kid, who is 15 years old. I am 13. Lele (pronounced Lee-lay) was at my house, she was 7 and I was 5. It was my dad's birthday (Oct 7th) and I was giving my dad a present. Except I didn't know what to write in the card. So I thought since Lele was older and smarter (even though she was always mean to me) I should ask her for help on what to write.

Instead, she made me spell out U HAVE B.O. on the card. When dad opened it and read it, he seemed surprised. But he could tell Lele had made me do it. He saw how upset I was that I had been fooled, so he put me on his lap and whispered into my ear, "She's just jealous that I'm _your _father."

After that, on the birthday cards I asked mom for help instead. And all she made me write, for simplicity, was ILY. You can guess what that means. Of course I decorated the cards nice and pretty-- I was little-- and to make up for the lack of words. Mom has every card of his in a box. Even the B.O one.

I stopped thinking of that memory for a moment. And then I get up from where I was thinking; my bed, and get that box of cards out from mom's room.

Just staring at each card through, I could feel my eyes watering. I blinked a million times. But I couldn't help it, I cried. And the more I cried, the more I wanted to know exactly how dad died.


	4. Memory 2

**Hm.. Nothing's going on in life so. That's why I'm writing and. Yup. (:**

**I wrote these a while go and I'm finally posting them.**

Memory #2

I tell my daughter all my stories. I don't know, I feel like I have to tell her. She likes them, too. She's the closest thing I have to Casey... And she's probably the only person in the world that I love as much as I love Casey. And even though he's gone, I still love him. He's watching. Casey is just... Lost. He lost his way and he's coming back. He's just lost in heaven.

One story I told Tara about a million times is the one which was one of the most recent stories I have of Casey. It was when Tara was 4 and Casey was still alive... But first things first, we were both really young. Like in our early 20's. So, yeah, you can (try to) do the math (if you like).

It was when I was trying to make breakfast for everyone...

"Casey!" I called out. I was laughing because I was so pathetic. "Heeellp."

Casey came into the kitchen and started to laugh.

"Hey!" I said, defensively. "You know I suck."

"You don't suck." he said. He walked over to the stove and picked up a burnt pancake. "You're just...very bad at cooking."

"What? I hate _making _the stuff, I just eat it."

He laughed again. "Yup. I make it all and you eat it all."

"Mm hmm."

"Okay, someone else deserves a laugh. TARAAA! Come look at what your mother made you for breakfast! Mmmmh."

Tara came skipping in and them stopped. "It smells like poo poo pancakes." she said.

"Well, thanks." I said back.

"I want DADDY'S FOOD!" she whined.

"No, today you eat MOMMY'S!" I immitate-whined back.

"DAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYYY! THAT'S NOT FAAAAIR!"

"What's not fair?" I demanded. "I'm trying to improve my cooking skills."

"Are you _trying _to food poison poor Tara?" Casey asked me, smiling. I _hmphed_ and turned away.

Casey walked up to me and put his arms around me, hugging me. "I love you."

I smiled. "I love you, too."

"Ewwwwwwww!" Tara cried out. "I don't want breakfast anymore!"

We ignored that, and Casey turned me around and kissed me. "From now on, stick to being a wife and mother and I'll cook. Capish?"

"Mm hmm..." I said. I could never get over his eyes.

He pulled me closer. "Guess what's in two weeks?"

"What?" I asked. I smiled. He knew I already knew, but he said it anyways.

"September 24..."

It was a pointless memory that lead into another memory about our anniversary on the 23rd of September.

But that was for another time..

**Tell me if you like these stupid lame lamo cheesy stories.**

**Like my usage of meeeean insults? (stupid, lame, lamo)? I'm baaad to the bone. **


	5. Now Will Never Be Yesterday

Don't Get Lost In Heaven

Now Will Never Be Yesterday

TARA'S POV

_Dear Diary,_

_Today is not tomorrow_

_But tomorrow I will say 'It's today'._

_Tomorrow is not tomorrow_

_But tomorrow I will say 'Tomorrow is tomorrow'_

_Today is not yesterday_

_But tomorrow I will say it was yesterday._

_So if everyday is a 'Today, tomorrow, and yesterday' at __**some **__point, then why isn't dad still alive.. __**Today?**_

I looked at my old diary entry. I forgot when I wrote it because I didn't write a date, but I do know it was a year or so ago. I think on of of his death-day-anniversaries. If that even makes sense.

It's dad's birthday, and it feels like he just died yesterday. But now will never again be yesterday, or the real day he died.

_Why hadn't just spoken to him on the phone? Who cared about Hannah Montana or whatever-the-hell I was watching back then? _I actually even forgot what movie I was watching. The movie could have waited. But instead, mom waited... And she waited and waited for dad to come home or call to tell us he safely arrived.. But instead, she sat their, love in her eyes as she watched me.. While at the moment, dad was dying in an airplane accident.

I wanted to puke.

Dad was.._dying.. _While mom was _waiting. _And _I _was watching stupid movies. I was so naïve. I never realized that these things could happen to anyone.. Of course I wasn't old enough to realize it, either... But...

I still feel guilt running through my veins.

I am going to go throw up. I can feel my breakfast coming up. This is so gross. I need to go now...

I closed my eyes and held my breath. After a couple seconds, I became calm again and remained seated at my desk, where I was now residing.

_Dear Diary,_

_Why did I not talk to him? Why did my wonderful father have to leave us? Didn't he know mother loved him more than Juliet loved Romeo? Maybe even more than Jesus loves God? Doesn't he know the sorrow mother has been put through? Eternal tears? And the guilt I am put through... Eternal pain..._

Another one of my diary entries. I missed Dad. A lot. And so did Mom.

Mom probably missed him more than a five-year-old misses Santa Claus when its the day after Christmas.

Or more than Bella missed Edward in New Moon. Of course, Mother never did any of the insane things Bella did.. For example, she never met _anyone _who she even _considered _liking.. Of course, Bella didn't either..but Bella _did _meet Jacob and love him (as a friend).

It was just different than that.

I put my head on my desk. I heard my phone vibrating but I didn't pick it up. I then looked up and picked up my old diary. I remember Dad had given it to me a little bit befoe he left for the New York trip, even though he knew I wouldn't write anything useful in it. (I _was _only seven.)

When he gave it to me, he winked and said, "Write some mean things about Lele in it, 'kay? Let out your inner feelings."

At the time, my inner feelings consisted of 'LELE IZ A STOOPID!' and 'LELE IS POOPOO!' or even 'LELE LIKE TO DANSE IN HER UNDERPANSE'. I was _seven. _But after scribbling in five pages I got bored and threw it in a corner. Years and years later I found it and wrote in it for some time.. Then I threw it in a corner again. Here I was, looking at it again.

I didn't even want to look at it. Memories of dad.. Of..

I threw the diary at the wall and it fell to the floor.

And... Out fluttered a green and yellow envelope. I didn't recognize it, so I picked it up. It was pretty thick.

The top of the envelope said, _Tara, my daughter_. _From daddy_.

My heart stopped for a second or two. Then I slowly opened the envelope. Inside wasa letter and another envelope.

_Dear Tara, _the letter read, and I continued reading it,

_Dear Tara,_

_You might see this letter the day you get this diary. Or the day after... And if you __**do **__see it so soon I am probably reading it aloud to you. But if you see it when you are old enough to read a letter by yourself, then you are probably reading this alone to yourself right now._

_All I wanted to let you know is that I love you. And if anything was ever to happen to me, I want to ask you for a huge favor. See the other envelope? I want you to give that envelope to your mother for me __**only when she needs it most. **__Give it to her when she's feeling sad, lonely, upset, stressed our depressed.. But only when I'm not there to help her out. If there ever is a time that I am gone somewhere for a while or even if something were to happen to me... Give her the envelope. And let her know I love her with all my heart. I love you with all my heart, too. And even if there is a time that I'm not here to be with you... Remember... I will always still be here __**for **__you. So in your heart, ask me a question and I will answer back somehow. That's how much I love you and Sammy. Tell her I love her. And if I'm not there and anything ever happens to __**her. **__Then, my heart will truly be torn out on my chest, but I will always stay with you. So know that I will never leave you. Every single second you breath, and your mother breaths, I will be dedicated to._

_I love you, and your mother. Remember the envelope._

_Love, Daddy_

I reread the letter about five million times. Then I closed my eyes, leaned back on my bed and started sobbing my eyes out. I needed mom.

Mom. The envelope.

I grabbed the other envelope and ran downstairs to mom (who was making us lunch). She had been pretty silent today. Of course she would be, so had I...

"Mom! Mom!" I panted, running up to her.

"Tara! What's wrong?" she asked, turning to me.

"This... Is.. From... Dad..."

"What?" she asked, plain-and-simple. No 'What are you talking about?'s or 'What's going on?'s. Just, 'What?'

"Dad wanted me to give this to you when you were sad." I said again.

"What?" she repeated, still dumbfounded.

"This.. Here.. Open it.." I said, handing her the envelope.

Inside the envelope was a note.

And with the note were pictures.

And along with the pictures and the note was something else.

A silver rusty, old-looking, bent-up horseshoe.

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